All Chapters of Rejected by My Mate, Desired by His Enemy : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

 “Enough talk. It is time to vote.”The gavel strikes lightly against the polished wood of the Council podium, echoing across the chamber. Iris stands straight behind it, feeling the weight of all eyes on her. The room smells faintly of old wood, ink, and candle wax. She can hear the shuffle of robes, the quiet murmur of anticipation, the scrape of feet against stone floors.Her gaze sweeps the assembly, catching the eyes of those who oppose and those who support. Today’s vote is close. The legislation she has worked on for months, the first major reform since taking her place as leader, is on the line. Omega rights. The Council has resisted for decades. Today, she asks them to see reason.“I ask you to consider the pack as a whole,” she says, voice steady, deliberate, carrying to every corner of the chamber. “Every wolf has value. Every wolf has a voice. We cannot claim strength while allowing inequality to persi

 “We cannot rely on the bond. Not this time.”Iris’s voice is sharp, echoing in the training hall. Donovan stops mid-step, eyes narrowing. He breathes in slowly, smelling the dust and sweat in the air, hearing the scrape of boots on wood. The bond between them hums faintly, strained, awkward, like a tether being tested.“You mean we fight without it?” Donovan asks. He flexes his fingers, feeling the muscle memory of their coordinated attacks, the way they usually move as one. Now it is gone. Silent. Separate. Vulnerable.“Yes,” Iris says, voice steady. “We adapt. We fight by sight, by instinct. Every call must be spoken. Every move must be watched. We cannot assume.”Donovan exhales and nods. He steps back, scanning her stance, the subtle tension in her shoulders, the set of her jaw. Iris mirrors him, muscles coiled, eyes bright and focused. They circle each other in silence, every step de

 “She wants us there.”Iris’s voice is low, almost a whisper, but sharp enough to cut through the tension in the strategy room. The room is dim, maps spread across tables, flickering candlelight reflecting off the edges of parchment, shadows stretching long on the walls. Every pair of eyes in the room is on her, waiting.Donovan leans against the wall, arms crossed, observing. He does not speak. He knows better than to interrupt. He waits until she has processed it, the way she always does fast, precise, like a predator sizing up her prey.“She picked it on purpose,” he finally says, voice quiet, measured.“I know,” Iris answers, eyes sweeping the map again. A pause. Then: “Good.” The single word carries weight, finality, and focus. She does not allow panic to touch her face, though the memory of Greymoon gnaws at her from the back of her mind.Donovan steps closer, scent faint in t

“Hold formation.”Iris’s voice carries low but clear through the moving line. Leaves crunch underfoot, damp earth soft beneath their steps as five hundred wolves push through the forest toward Greymoon. The air is cool, sharp in the lungs, carrying the scent of pine, moss, and something older waiting ahead.The bond hums steady and strong. It stretches across the coalition, linking every unit, every flank, every scout. It is not loud, not overwhelming, but constant. A shared awareness. A pulse that keeps them aligned without needing to speak.Iris runs at the front. Her breath is even, her steps controlled, eyes scanning the terrain ahead. The trees thin slowly, the ground rising in uneven slopes. She feels everything. The rhythm of the pack. The tension building. The quiet readiness in every wolf moving behind her.Donovan is at her right. Close enough that their shoulders almost brush when the path narrows. He says nothing. He does not need to.Through the bond, she feels him.Sharp

 “Turn!”Iris moves before the word fully leaves her mouth. Her body twists hard, boots scraping against loose stone as she pivots toward the rear.They are already there.Thirty wolves.Not scattered. Not rushing.Controlled. Tight.Morgana’s elite.They cut through the back line like a blade. The rear guard does not break easily, but this is not a normal push. These wolves move like they have done this a hundred times. No wasted motion. No hesitation.A scream cuts sharp through the noise as one of the rear wolves goes down. Another follows.The line buckles.“Rear breach!” someone shouts, voice strained.Iris is already moving.Donovan reaches her at the same time, stepping into her path just enough to slow her for half a second.“I take them,” he says.“No,” she snaps, already trying to push past him.“Y